We All Fall Down
by StoneandSilence
Summary: Keeping vigil over an unconscious person shouldn't be hard, but Five never let them do anything the easy way. Missing scene/slight canon divergence. Set at the end of episode 7.
1. Chapter 1

Thank god mom was there. That probably wasn't the most mature thought for a thirty year old man to have, but whatever. Five was bleeding out, Allison was worried and Diego was more scared than he wanted to admit. He didn't know shit about first aid beyond 'keep it clean and slap a band-aid on it'. He knew they had to get the shrapnel out but he didn't know how he was going to do that really. That's what hospitals were supposed to be for, but Five had refused. Until he passed out, anyway. Stubborn little asshole.

But he was Number Two (and Jesus hadn't _those_ jokes gotten old fast) and the marginal leader of their little trio so he did his best to take charge of things and not let Allison see how afraid he was or how incompetent he's feeling. Just helped her drag their bleeding (younger? older?) brother out of the car and carry him into the house. Then he went for the medical kit, deciding the best thing to do is try to stanch the bleeding before they moved him to the medical room.

And suddenly there was mom.

It didn't make any sense, Diego had switched her _off_, but she was there and alive and he was too frazzled and grateful and relieved to look into it all that deep. He brought her to Five and she did what she'd always done from the time they were kids, taking over with a calm efficiency that he'd missed. The tightness in his chest loosened a bit and he felt like he could start breathing again. Mom was here, and it was going to be okay. _Five_ was going to be okay.

The world might still end in two days or whatever but at least he wouldn't have to bury his brother before then.

It was while he's in the bathroom washing off the blood that he noticed his hands were shaking. "Too fuckin' close, man" he muttered to himself in the mirror. They'd just gotten Five back. He'd come _back_. With a drinking problem and talking to a mannequin while raving about the end times sure, but that wasn't anything Diego hadn't seen from the homeless people downtown, so. The main difference there being that some of them were actually pretty nice people whereas Five was an asshole.

But he was still Diego's brother.

It was over an hour before Grace finished, before Five was stitched up and bandaged and laying pale-faced in his room with an IV in his arm. Welp, he wouldn't be saving the world tonight. Probably ought to take it easy tomorrow too. Diego still wasn't sure he believed all that apocalypse business, nor Five's nutcase ramblings about some all-powerful organization that monitored all of time and space. That was some next-level Doctor Who crazy right there. But was obvious Five believed it. Believed it so much he'd almost died for it. And whether or not it had anything to do with the end of days, Harold Jenkins was a dangerous criminal and he had their sister, so.

So why had he volunteered to keep an eye on his brother while mom got some rest and recharged her batteries? The kid would be fine. He ought to be going after Jenkins, or the assholes who killed Patch. Five didn't need him to be here, and probably wouldn't want him here anyway. If he were awake Diego's sure he'd be calling him an idiot and yelling at him to get his ass in gear and go stop the apocalypse.

Well, there was a little apocalypse happening right here at home and it was called 'Five almost died 'cause he's a dumbass' and it seemed a lot more tangible to him than some nebulous Armageddon. His vigil would only set them back and hour or two anyway and then mom could take over again. He knew Allison felt the same way because she was still here too and that was a good thing; he didn't like the idea of her going off on her own into this mess. He was worried about Vanya but there was no sense in sending Allison to deal alone.

He walked by Five's room for the third time, expecting his brother to be in bed because unconscious people tended to stay where you left them but of course it was Five so it couldn't be that easy, right? Five never did anything easy. He couldn't even _age_ like a normal person so Diego felt like he really shouldn't be surprised when a quick glance revealed a dangling IV needle and an empty bed, but he was.

"Ah, shit," he muttered to himself, stepping into the room. He'd jumped, hadn't he? The stupid kid (old man, whatever) was out there somewhere with a hole in his side doing God knows what and-

A faint scratching sound caught his attention and he turned around. Five hadn't jumped. He was right there, crouched down next to the wall, scribbling furiously with a bit of white chalk. Diego's eyebrows crushed together in confusion. What the hell was he doing? "Five?"

His brother didn't answer, which to be honest wasn't that strange. What was strange - and what had Diego very slightly concerned - was the stiff, jerky movement of his arm and the nearly illegible handwriting scrawled out in front of him. He'd seen something similar when they'd found him at the library, the random mathematical equations he'd been drunkenly writing on the walls. But those at least were tidy, and if he had the brain for it he could probably have followed them. This though...it looked as if Five simply started writing atop whatever formula was already there and kept right on going, layer after layer of integers and fractions and esoteric equations all jumbled together. It looked insane, and he had no idea if it was even supposed to make sense.

"Five?" he asked again, a little more urgently and Five was still ignoring him, still scratch, scratch, scratching at the wall and it reminded him of a crazy person, the kind you'd find in an asylum somewhere huddled up on the floor talking to plants and something was definitely wrong with his brother.

"Five!"


	2. Chapter 2

Shit, _shit_, this was not good. On the list of things Diego did not need right now, this was just right the fuck up there. What was even wrong with him? Had his mind finally snapped the way the old man always said it might if he played around with time travel?

"Hey Five," Diego said again, kneeling next to his brother. "Com'on man, lets get you back into bed, okay?" He gave his arm a little shake, hoping to bring him back from wherever it was he'd gone. This close he could see the sweat beaded on Five's forehead, the fever flush that made his cheeks glow red. Five wasn't crazy - no more than usual anyway- he was sick. He was really sick and it was making Diego feel a little sick too. Damnit, why could nothing about Five be _easy_? He shook him again, a bit harder this time because that scratching was starting to get on his nerves and he just...he needed Five to stop acting like a lunatic because it was starting to scare him and Diego really did not like being scared.

"Hey, hey- stop that, stop." He covered Five's hand with his own, pulling it gently away. Five sort-of looked at him then but his eyes were glassy and fever-bright and Diego'd bet hard cash he didn't know him from Adam. "Man, you really did it to yourself this time, didn't you?"

Five muttered something he couldn't hear, sounded a bit like 'asses' but that was probably just Diego's brain misinterpreting things. "Whatever you say. You wanna come back to bed now? Come on." He tried to get Five on his feet but after a moment it was obvious that wasn't gonna work, especially not when Diego only had one good arm to try and support him with. He was about to call for Allison when Five started scribbling on the wall again, and that pissed him off because it was easier to be angry than scared so Diego took his chalk away and Five, well...Five lost his shit.

"Fuck!" Diego swore as Five lunged at him, making a clumsy swipe for the chalk because even half dead he was a stubborn prick. Diego evaded him with ease; Five was too out of it to do much more than flop around and it'd be funny if it weren't so troubling. Well, Diego would make sure to give him plenty of shit for it once they were over the immediate crisis. "Hey, hey! Stop it! Settle down!" Diego locked his arms around Five, let his brother struggle futility against him until he ran out of whatever meager reserve of strength he had. "You can stop now, all right? There's no more equations, there's nothing to solve. There's just you getting back into bed and getting better, okay?"

After a few more minutes Five seemed to give up, leaning heavily against Diego's chest. Diego kept an arm cradled around him, hand cupped at the back of his neck and told himself it was to make sure he didn't start struggling again and hurt himself. This time when he started mumbling Diego was close enough to make it out.

"Ashes? The hell does that mean?" But Five would rather die than be helpful so instead of giving him an answer he passed out, relaxing with a quiet sigh as Diego lowered him gently to the floor.

"Shit."


	3. Chapter 3

Diego sighed and rested his head against the wall. After giving himself a moment to pull together he summoned Allison because he _had_ to get Five back into bed, he only had one good arm and his brother was heavier than he looked. Besides, there was the matter of re-inserting the IV and Diego hated needles, always had. Ever since their father made them get those tattoos as kids. Just one more way the old man had left his mark.

"What happened?" Allison asked, walking in to find them both still sprawled out on the floor.

"Dunno, came in and found him out of bed, scribbling on the wall." He waved his hand to indicate the shaky, spidery handwriting scrawled everywhere. "Didn't recognize me. He's got a pretty high fever though. Need to get him back in bed."

Allison looked around at the mess, obviously questioning Five's mental state and whether or not they should be putting so much faith in his assertions that the world was about to end.

"Yeah, I know," Diego said, because he'd been having the same thought. "But he was right about this Jenkins guy being bad news, so." He shrugged. "Besides, _something_ happened to him while he was gone. Something bad. I know you can see it; we all can. I suppose the apocalypse is as good an explanation as any."

She was quiet for a moment then nodded. "He won't talk to me about it."

"Yeah well no shit; it's Five." He sighed, "Help me get him up off the floor."

"You think he was really gone for forty-five years?" she asked as they wrestle him back into bed. "All that stuff about a temps commission?"

"I dunno. A few days ago I would've said no way. Now? I dunno. He's in the middle of some pretty weird shit though, I can tell you that."

"I noticed," she replied, covering him with a blanket.

"Okay," he said once they'd gotten him settled, "I'm gonna go get him some aspirin. I need you to put his IV back in."

"Me?" she asked incredulously, looking like he'd just asked her to pull a carrot out of her ear.

"Yeah, you. Come on, mom's still recharging. Besides, you're a mother; you've taken care of Claire plenty of times, right? "

"Yeah, for skinned knees and runny noses. I don't know how to insert an IV!"

"Well, here's your chance to learn. Besides, how hard can it be?" He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and beat it before she could tell him to do it himself. He'd rather chew glass than admit how much needles bothered him.

By the time he got back Five was resting more or less peacefully and Allison seemed to have figured out the IV. He checked his watch and figured mom had about another half hour or so. He studied his brother's face, the too-pale skin, shadows like bruises under his eyes. He looked pathetic.

"If I stay here with you, you gonna give me any more trouble?" he asked, pulling up a chair. Five didn't say anything and for once Diego kinda wished he would. "Pain in the ass," he grumbled, shifting around and getting comfortable. The room didn't have any response for him and after a moment he sighed. "It's all right," he said a bit grudgingly. "We all fall down sometimes...even you."

If he maybe spent the next couple minutes holding his brother's hand, well. No one would ever be able to prove a thing.


End file.
